Desert Orchid: The Desert Princes: Book 1 (19 page)

"Yes. To protect me. But it was my choice, too."

Janaan narrowed her eyes. Her soft mouth went tight.

"And you always wear the veil?"

Charisse felt tension built across her shoulders at the implied criticism. "Yes, when I leave the palace. My husband requested that I comply with tradition."

"Forgive me, but I am confused. For a woman who complies with tradition, what on earth were you doing riding out in the middle of the night to meet a Sheik in the desert?"

It was a very good question.

And now Charisse wondered how she was going to explain the complex working relationship she'd had with her late husband.

"Amir was a unique mix of the old world meeting the new. I might be a woman, but he only saw my intellectual capabilities and skills, not my gender. He regarded me as the right person for the job. Because my only agenda was to represent him and do what was best for the people, he trusted me implicitly to be his voice during government meetings. And, yes, he did permit me to meet with the most powerful man after the king in our country. He also expected me to be modest at all times and to wear traditional dress and to behave in a certain way. I did not and do not have a problem with his beliefs."

"I find the idea of me standing in for Abdullah in meetings simply... fascinating. As far as clothing is concerned, you might find, my dear, that Khalid believes differently. Although, as my son, he respects a woman's right to choose." She paused, thought hard for a long moment. "And so your father wants you dead." The remark was a statement rather than a question.

Charisse shrugged. "If he is the one who has put a price on my head. And we must remember that we do not have proof. If it is, then he fears losing everything he has worked for if the truth comes out."

Even though she'd expected to have this conversation with Khalid, Charisse had found it a huge release, even cathartic, to talk about her past and the present situation with Janaan. And she found it easy to tell her nothing but the truth.

"The more powerful my father became, the more Amir believed he would harm me. And that, I think, is why Amir thought of Khalid as my husband. He spoke to King Abdullah of his plan."

Janaan lifted a perfect eyebrow and nodded very slowly.

"And my husband, as I discovered very long ago, is perfectly capable of keeping secrets." She gave a twisted smile, and patted Charisse's cold hand. "Don't look so anxious. You are not telling tales. This is typical behaviour of an El Haribe male. The little women are to be protected at all costs while the big strong men keep them safe."

With a decided gleam in her grey eyes, she lifted a little silver bell and rang it once.

A servant, clad in the livery of the royal household, materialised and bowed deeply.

"Champagne on ice. And a platter of fresh fruit," the queen ordered in an unexpected slow Texan drawl that had Charisse biting down hard on her bottom lip.

Trying hard not to laugh at how much the queen resembled Khalid when she was in the mood to be naughty, Charisse grinned into grey eyes brimming with sheer wickedness.

"Are we celebrating?"

"You betcha, honey!" Janaan sat back on the couch. Crossing long legs, she folded her arms and stared into the distance, apparently deep in thought.

After a timeless moment, Charisse placed her elbow on the arm of the couch, rested her chin on her hand, and decided to nudge the conversation along.

"Want to give me a clue what we're celebrating, Janaan?"

The queen simply held up a finger as a silver platter of sliced mango and a variety of berries was placed on the table. Tall glasses of delicate crystal were filled with liquid bubbles that sparkled and fizzed. A heavy ice bucket of solid silver was placed on the table and held an open bottle of the best champagne.

Once the servants had bowed and left, Janaan handed a glass to Charisse and picked up her own. She clinked their glasses together and announced gaily, "To us! Never let the bastards get you down." She took a sip, then their glasses clinked musically again. "Don't get angry, get even." Another sip and another musical clink. "And welcome to the family, honey."

Charisse rarely drank alcohol.

She didn't have the head for it.

Then she decided, what the hell, it would be churlish of her to refuse.

So she took a long sip. It was fruity and gorgeously pleasant. So she took another.

Janaan sat back, again deep in thought.

Watching her, her future daughter-in-law realised there was a tough cookie under Janaan's fragile, polished exterior.

Silence reigned until the first glass was empty and refilled.

Then Janaan made a low, "Hmm," sound under her breath.

Charisse wondered what on earth was coming next.

She didn't have long to wait to find out.

"Khalid cares deeply for you. He is madly in love. He is worried about you. Very worried. And that is a very, very, good thing," Janaan drawled, sounding as if she was back in Texas.

Bewildered, but having the time of her life, Charisse gave her big eyes.

"Why is the fact he is worried about me a good thing?"

"Because if he's worried about you, it means he is not brooding. It means he's not in one of his black moods." Janaan's eyes slid to hers. "You'd better prepare yourself for those. I've often wondered if we should have insisted that Khalid have counselling after the accident. But he refused to entertain the idea. My son is very stubborn. He'll blame himself for everything that has happened to you."

Annoyed, Charisse took another sip of her wine. "That's ridiculous. How is he responsible for my father's behaviour?"

"Cause and effect. He'll see the death of Mia, which he firmly believes is his fault, as the catalyst that killed your mother, tipped your father over the edge, and made him abuse you. Then there's the fact you were shot on his watch. Since his bodyguard is in the frame, he'll quite happily take the blame for that, too. And then there's the orchestrated unrest in Onuur, which he'll worry over like a dog with a bone. All the while holding himself responsible. Do you see where I'm going with this?"

Tiny wings of anxiety fluttered at her throat as Charisse did indeed see where Janaan was going.

"If you're correct, then there is no logic to his thinking. He'll put himself under immense pressure."

The queen considered the remarks as they sipped their wine.

"Logic has nothing to do with Khalid's thinking, or his behaviour. When he's in a funk you'll need to learn how to distract him." Grey eyes studied her over the rim of her glass and Charisse felt the need to squirm under a direct gaze that reminded her so much of Khalid.

"You are a virgin?"

Charisse inhaled wine and choked.

Janaan handed her a tissue.

Once she'd caught her breath, her eyes flew to Khalid's mother who'd cocked her head to watch her carefully. Since the truth was burning her cheekbones, what on earth was the point of lying? Taking a deep breath as if she was about to dive into the deep end of her swimming pool, she met eyes that missed nothing.

"Khalid made love to me shortly after we met."

The delighted laugh from Khalid's mother was the last thing she'd been expecting. Janaan shook her head. Torn between mortification and the thrill of being able to talk about such things with another woman, Charisse couldn't help but grin in return.

Thank goodness the woman didn't think she was a slut.

"That's my boy! He never hangs around when he wants something. I've heard all about Khalid's sexual prowess."

"Words every son longs to hear a mother utter," a deep voice drawled behind them.

Khalid battled to keep his expression fierce and very disapproving.

He'd never seen two people look more shocked, more guilty, as the women who sat before him.

His eyes slitted as he took in Charisse’s flushed cheeks, and the empty bottle of vintage champagne.

"Well, well, and what have we here?" he said in a silky voice that had his fiancée fight a losing battle with helpless laughter.

It was obvious to him that Charisse was not used to alcohol, and he wondered if either woman had considered how the heat and strong painkillers added into the mix might affect his beloved?

She turned to him and those big blue eyes, filled to the brim with mischief, made his heart trip in his chest. The wide smile on her fabulous mouth caught the breath in his lungs. She looked so beautiful. The loose, thin fabric of her clothes couldn't hide how willow slim she'd become. Along with the silver colour of her hair, the ivory silk of her gown and gold slippers she wore, she resembled a ray of vivid sunshine.

His fingers itched to paint her.

Attempting to rise, Charisse swayed on her feet.

Khalid moved fast to scoop her up into his strong arms.

She'd lost too much weight and was as light as a child.

Then Charisse wound slim arms around his neck.

Her fingers slid through his hair, running her fingernails gently across his scalp.

The move did amazing things to his libido.

Khalid's blood pooled between his legs.

She smiled and blinked up into his face with big blue eyes brimming with sheer devilment.

"Thank you, Rock Star," Charisse purred in her throat in a way that fired his groin and made his mother hastily suppress a delighted smile behind her hand.

With a narrow-eyed stare at his helplessly laughing mother, Khalid turned and strode towards the palace.

Someone, he decided, needed a siesta.

Charisse leaned back against his shoulder and stared up at him with sleepy eyes.

Then she inhaled and moved in to sniff his neck.

"You smell wonderful," she told him. Then she nuzzled and pressed a soft kiss under his ear. "You always smell wonderful."

All the good intentions he'd fought so hard for over the past days were leaking away, fast. She was in no fit state to be made love to and he was a man not used to waiting. His desire for her rode him so hard he winced from the pain of it.

Taking a deep breath, he stared down into his fiancée's happy face and tucked his tongue firmly in his cheek.

"Do I?" he drawled.

"Yep. Give me a kish."

Khalid bit down hard on his bottom lip, determined not to laugh.

He merely shook his head, slid her a look.

"A kish? How many glasses of champagne did you have?'

With a deep frown creasing her smooth forehead, and totally unaware it made her look absolutely adorable, Charisse thought very hard.

"Two!" she announced. Then she pouted her fabulous mouth in a way that made his pulse thrum through his system. "I wanna kish," she slurred.

Heart full with nothing but love for her, he watched those big eyes, with their thick lashes, close.

Her head lay on his chest.

As Khalid entered the blessed coolness of the palace he saw Sarif and Arabella Faulkner deep in conversation.

The bodyguard's head jerked up and she raced forward.

"What's the matter?"

Since Khalid still hadn't forgiven her for taking Charisse into the desert, his tone was not friendly. "Too much heat. Too much champagne."

"You gave her alcohol?" she asked in a disbelieving voice.

His temper spiked at the tone.

Who the hell, Khalid thought furiously, did she think she was speaking to?

Sarif took one look at his face and stepped forward.

"Miss Faulkner, I believe you have work to do?" The cool reprimand in his voice made the bodyguard go stiff and her face flush with embarrassment.

She nodded once, turned and stalked down the corridor.

"That woman forgets herself," spat Khalid.

"She'll be out of your hair soon enough. I'm taking her into my close protection staff.' Now Sarif's dark eyes rested on Charisse. "What happened?"

The woman Khalid carried slept soundly.

He held her close as her arms fell from around his neck and her body went limp.

"I'm not sure Charisse will agree to your plan for Arabella. They are very close, and I do not want her upset." Then he spoke in a long-suffering tone. "In answer to your second question, our mother happened to her. They shared a bottle of bubbly in the garden. And I doubt it occurred to either of them how the heat might affect the patient. Or, that she's on strong painkillers. This... is the result."

Sarif's granite hard features broke into a grin that took years off him.

"Seriously? I can't remember the last time I saw mama drink wine."

"Yeah? Well, you can go and sort her out. I left her crying with laughter under a magnolia tree. And she sounds as if she's back in Texas."

"I need to see this," Sarif muttered under his breath before strolling out the doors into the gardens.